


Winter's End

by Shyspyder



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types
Genre: Book/Movie: Prince Caspian, Holding Hands, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, being soft, implied touch starved, post-almost releasing white witch scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27368404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shyspyder/pseuds/Shyspyder
Summary: Missing scene between Caspian and Peter after they almost accidentally release the white witch. Minor h/c. Very soft.
Relationships: Caspian/Peter Pevensie
Kudos: 52





	Winter's End

**Author's Note:**

> Coming out of my year long ao3 hiatus after (finally) getting a disney plus subscription. This was the result.

He didn’t know how long they both sat there, huddled silently beneath the shattered ice. The cold air that swept through the caves seemed to not matter at all. It certainly didn’t stop Caspian from moving from where he sat, crouched next to a stone pillar with hands that were still shaking.

At some point Edmund had disappeared with the others, leaving them both where they were. There was much work to do, and little time for any more mistakes. They moved quickly, emptying the cavern and moving on to the next task. _As if this had just been another task_. He must have assumed the two kings would be following close behind.

But Caspian couldn’t move. Caspian couldn’t move, because Peter was still there. Crouched in front of the glass shards. Head bowed down and eyes wide open as he breathed out in low gasps.

Caspian watched from his own position at the other side of the room. _Why couldn’t his hands stop shaking?_

Peter had come at the last minute, tearing him away from the White Witch. He could still feel his heartbeat, the fear pulsing into his blood. He could still feel Peter’s hands on his shoulders, wrenching his bloody wrist away from the Witch and throwing himself in front of him. Mouth curled back into a snarl and fire in his eyes.

The only thing in the world that Caspian wanted was to save Narnia. And defeat his uncle, of course. If he had known that it would have required such dark magic, of course he never would have gone anywhere near those caves. Cornelius had taught him enough to know that no good could ever come from something like this.

But it had been nearly too late. If Peter and the others hadn’t heard the chanting and followed him down here, it may have _really_ been too late.

He closed his eyes briefly and took in a deep breath, taking a moment to digest everything that had just happened. The circle. The ice. The White Witch, reaching out. Promising a future he could not guarantee. When he opened them again, he had expected to see Peter gone. Or at least not as he was before, staring at shards of ice in shock and terror.

But there he was, eyes still wide as he stared forward, unblinking. If Caspian hadn’t known better he could almost believe that he was still in a trance himself.

When he had first met Peter, he had thought a lot of different things.

When he learned more about Peter, he began to think about those things even more.

He wasn’t at all what he expected. How could he be? He was no older than he was. Probably younger.

And yet... He was Peter _the Magnificent_ , after all. A wise, proven king. Loved by all. Challenged by no one.

Caspian, on the other hand, wasn’t much of a king at all. He certainly didn’t feel like one. Especially not now, huddled in the corner and shaking in fear because of a damn ghost. But when he looked over at Peter, whose eyes were wide and his hands gripped the granite stone behind him with as much force as he could bear…he felt a pang in his chest. He hated himself for the relief it brought him. He hated himself even more for the overwhelming urge to reach forward and pull him into his arms. To assure him that _none of this was real_.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

He hadn’t even meant to ask it. But the words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them, and for a moment, Peter almost looked as if he had finally stopped shaking.

“I…” He looked up, still staring at the ice. Golden hair sprawled over his forehead, just enough to show the shine in his wide eyes.

Caspian came to a brief, but very certain realization.

A couple of realizations, actually.

First, life for the pre-Telmarine Narnians was not as utopian as his tutor had made it out to be. Part of him knew that already. In the back of his mind, at least. But seeing Peter--seeing the king who had been so sure of himself--have such a visible reaction to the sight of something that _wasn’t even there_ only cemented this fact.

Second (though perhaps related to the first), he had been guilty of mythologizing this young king just as much as they all had. He had seen the White Witch for himself, of course. He had seen the coldness in her eyes and the sureness of her promises when she reached her hand towards his. It was easy to read about the kings and queens of old, and how they restored peace and prosperity to the lands. But what it took to get there…

He thought about his own heartaches. His own fights and battles and triumphs that hadn’t yet meant to be.

The thought of going through all of this _again_? For someone else’s throne? Well, that was....

Caspian couldn’t even begin to imagine.

He hesitated, not quite sure what to do. At last, he took a step forward. Hesitant, at first. But when Peter did not react, he took another. Until he was close enough to touch him.

He put his hand on his shoulder. Careful, at first. He didn’t want to startle him, but he knew that he would need to break the silence eventually. His heartbeat quickened. He could feel the fabric beneath the palm of his hand, and the warmth that seeped through it. It was only made stronger by the cold air that surrounded them.

“Come, your majesty,” he said, his voice quiet. “We should be getting back.”

For the first time, Peter looked up at him. There was a grief in his eyes that made his heart sink. He had only known him for...what, a week? If even that? But he still felt an odd surge in his chest, seeing him like this. He wished--perhaps more than he ever wished for anything in his life--that he knew what to say. _He had never known what to say._

Peter spoke first.

“I should have listened to you,” he said. His voice was hoarse. Quiet, even. He could hardly hear what he said.

It was not defeat. That wasn’t the right word for it. It was something else. Something deeper that Caspian was yet unfamiliar with. It was easy to look at him now--look at this _boy_ who had been forced into a picture on his tutor’s desk--and assume it was the result of anything other than half a lifetime of experience. But Peter had been king. They don’t make kings out of boys who were in the right place at the right time. _Do they_?

“What do you mean?”

“The siege. All those men, gone. I didn’t...”

Oh. _Oh_.

“Oh no. No, Peter,” he said softly. He still wasn’t sure what the proper title was. King. Your majesty. Peter. But it didn’t seem to matter. “You did what you thought was right.”

“What I thought was right.” He laughed dully, and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now, does it?”

Caspian swallowed. Such a strange thing. Only a few hours ago they were fighting over this very decision. Now they were here. Huddled together in this cavern beneath the shattered tomb. He was more than surprised that Peter trusted him enough to admit this to him. But after what they had just experienced, he understood why. He could still feel the ice clawing at his stomach and had to blink the dazed feeling out of his head.

He knelt down, so that he was at eye level. Peter blinked in surprise, frowning slightly. “It does matter,” he said. His voice was stronger than he felt. “We will defeat my uncle, and all of this will be over. I promise.”

“It doesn’t matter at all,” He repeated himself again, voice harsher this time. A complete shift from the fear he had heard only moments before.

“What do you mean?” “We’ll win the next battle and defeat your uncle,” he agreed, then paused briefly before continuing on. “Then Aslan will send us back to our world. It’s what happened last time. Why shouldn’t it be any different now?”

 _Win the next battle?_ He wished he had that same certainty. Still, he couldn’t ignore the bitterness in his voice. The unfairness of it all--being stuck in one world while belonging in another. He wondered if there was something else there too. The way he was looking at him now...

“Things never happen the same way twice.” He didn’t know where that phrase came from either. But it felt right. It felt like an acceptable thing to say in these types of scenarios.

Peter looked up, looking him straight in the eye for the first time since he stepped into that cold, dark room. It was an awkward position. His shoulders shifting slightly so that he was no longer facing forward, but his legs still sprawled in front of him. But for a moment--however brief it may have been--there was a small, wistful smile on his face. The golden hair which had previously only brushed just past his eyebrows fell into his left eye, so only one was truly visible.

Caspian's heart nearly stopped. He wanted to reach forward and brush it aside. He wanted to see those eyes for himself. The reassurance that he was saying the right thing, and that yes, he had heard those words correctly.

_...They would defeat his uncle..._

_...Things never happen the same way twice..._

He could still feel the heat in the palm of his hand from where he was gripping his shoulder. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to take it away. Not yet, at least. Not until Peter told him to.

Suddenly, Peter looked down, frowning. It broke the trance. Caspian looked over the top of his head, breathing out slowly.

“You’re hand,” he said. His voice was still quiet, but the winds had finally died down. Now, they echoed through the cavern instead. “You’re hurt.”

“Oh,” Caspian said. He looked down at his hand--the one that wasn’t still on Peter’s shoulder--and saw the blood smeared across his palm and dripping down from his fingers. The pain had been the least of his worries.

Before he could even process what was happening, Peter reached forward and touched the side of his palm. Guiding it gently so that it was visible in the firelight.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. His voice was unreasonably high.

He expected Peter to roll his eyes. Scoff and say something that would unintentionally stick with Caspian for the rest of the day. But instead, he sighed and pulled out his flask.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think? We can’t have you getting an infection.” There it was. His voice returning to it’s normal tone. It was...different, though. His annoyance didn’t seem directed towards him. At least, Caspian thought that it wasn’t. _He hoped that it wasn’t._

“Oh...thank you.”

He took it other hand off of his shoulder suddenly, as if he had been burned. He could feel his cheeks heating up, ducking his head in vain hope that he could conceal the worst of it.

Peter looked up again. This time, his hair had fallen completely away from his eyes, making the soft concern only that more obvious. Caspian gripped the stone pillar beside him again. He could still feel the now-familiar itch to _do something_. The warmth from his shoulder was gone, but his fingers were still holding his injured hand. Keeping him in place while the water washed away the dirt and blood.

He didn’t know how long they sat there for. Peter, holding his injured hand. Caspian, struggling (and failing?) to keep himself from shaking. He wasn’t thinking about battles or evil uncles or even kings. All he knew was that he was here. And Peter was there. And for once, maybe he had been right--things never do happen the same way twice. And even if they did, well...surely he could allow himself this moment. Surely no one could take this from him.

He closed his eyes and sighed.

**Author's Note:**

> Yell with me on Tumblr: [shyspyderr](https://shyspyderr.tumblr.com/)


End file.
